chapter Ten
Eliana
“It’s my car. I’m driving,” I insisted, hand wrapped tightly around my keys while I stared into Sledge’s scowling, handsome face. Rebel and his wife, Nikki, had shown up with their daughter to keep Zoya company while I gathered my things from the motel, with a big, bad-ass biker escort.
“I don’t think so,” he said firmly, his voice even and unshakeable.
I growled my displeasure and turned away, determined to get in the driver’s seat and go get my things. “Bossy and annoying,” I mumbled under my breath.
“I am your boss,” he whispered in my ear, his body suddenly too close and too warm. “Bossy goes along with the territory.”
My body trembled with need as his hand slid from my shoulder down my arm. His palm was hot, his hand slightly callused and completely comforting. His touch left me vibrating with arousal and shaken from its intensity.
And then the keys slipped from my hand and his warmth was gone.
“Thief!” I accused but it didn’t matter, one arm had already wrapped around my midsection and pulled me from the driver’s side door. “Stop it, right now.”
Sledge laughed, the sound deep and rich, the kind that was like a naughty slap to the pussy. “The fight is over,” he said, guiding me around to the passenger seat.
I pouted while he gave me a gentle shove into the car and fastened my seatbelt. “Ass.”
He laughed again, closing the door before he strutted back around the car like he was showing off, drawing my eye to his muscled legs wrapped in denim. He slid behind the wheel, quickly adjusting the seat before he took control of the vehicle—my vehicle—and we got on the road.
The drive was silent but not tense, which was weird because things were always tense when we were together. Maybe it was being stuck in the small space of my car together or maybe it was the break-in hanging over us. I didn’t rush to try to fill the silence, just accepted it.
I jumped out as soon as he killed the engine and started towards the stairs. “You can stay out here,” I told Sledge without stopping or looking back.
“Yeah, that’s not fuckin’ happening.” He caught up to me quickly, hovering while I shoved the keycard in three times before I got the damn green light. “I’ll go in first,” he insisted, bracing a large forearm across my chest.
I froze and stared at him for a long time. It was instinct to put up a fight but there was something in his tone that stopped me. “You think someone could be in there?”
“I’m not ruling it out,” he said. “Stay here.” Before I could argue, he pushed the door open with one hand, gun aimed into the room with the other.
I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands, willing my heart to slow down before it shot out of my chest. Twenty seconds later, he stuck his head out, too close, and grinned.
“All clear.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I stepped inside, my gaze sweeping across the room quickly.
Everything looked as drab as it had when I left for work this morning.
“Things look undisturbed so that’s good.
” I hadn’t bothered unpacking anything other than what I needed last night, including pajamas, toiletries, and a toothbrush, so packing was quick and easy.
Sledge’s big body took up space in the room even without a word. His presence filled every square inch, making it impossible to ignore him.
“Okay. Ready.”
He blinked, staring at me from the chair near the window. One ankle rested on his knee, arms folded over his broad chest. “I know you’re scared, Eliana and I really fuckin’ hate that, but I promise that I’ll keep you safe. You have my word.”
I believed him instantly. “It’s not that. I mean, thank you, obviously, but it’s the invasion, ya know? Not sure how I’ll feel safe for a long time.” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault, let’s just say I’m prone to danger-based anxiety due to… life circumstances.”
“Well now I’m intrigued.” He leaned forward, wiggled his brows until I laughed.
“Don’t be, it was a frightening experience.” I didn’t want to share it with him but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I needed to if I wanted him to trust me with Zoya. And with his secrets.
“I’m a former SEAL, Eliana, frightening is right in my wheelhouse.”
“That explains it,” I said, suddenly even more intrigued than I was ten seconds ago.
“What, the scar?”
I shook my head. “No, the whole confident swagger, bad-ass, lived through the shit, way about you.” It really made a lot of sense. “That’s an odd transition, isn’t it, from SEAL to biker?”
He shrugged. “Maybe for some, for me it was a natural fit.”
“A perfect non-answer,” I shot back, dropping onto the edge of the bed to watch him.
“Ah,” he grinned. “That’s because we’re talking about you.”
“I guess we were.” I nodded, leaning back on my palms in search of a casualness I didn’t feel.
“I had a brother,” I began, taking a deep breath as I prepared to talk about the thing that had stolen my voice for too many years.
“His name was Carlito. Actually,” I smiled.
“I have four brothers, but this is about Carlito.”
Sledge’s expression shifted immediately, his features softened, and the usual rough edge in his gaze had smoothed out to understanding. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, like he already sensed this wasn’t small talk. “Older or younger?” he asked quietly.
“Youngest brother,” I answered, shaking my head. “But he was older than me. I’m the baby.”
He flashed a soft grin that gave me the courage to keep going. “I’ll bet they were protective as fuck.”
I nodded. “They were. They had to be because I hid behind them anytime I could.” I smiled at the memory, the last good memory of my childhood, ripping and running behind my brothers.
“Marco is the oldest, he’s the responsible one.
Roberto and Leo are twins who couldn’t be more different, but back then they were typical twins.
Then there was Carlito and then me. A big family in East Vegas, and not the shiny Strip part that came with fat tips and tourists.
Nope, we lived on the other side, that’s how people said it, you know?
” I didn’t wait for his response, just pushed on.
“The cracked sidewalks, the homes that had seen better days, and corner stores that closed at sunset. It wasn’t a bad area, just working class, but we’d hear the occasional gunshot from the bad part of the city.
” I let out a bitter laugh. “Until the day Carlito died, I never realized just how close the bad part of the city was to where we lived.”
Something changed on Sledge’s face and he didn’t interrupt. He waited patiently, giving me the room to think and to breathe.
“Anyway, Carlito was my best friend,” I said, smiling despite the heaviness that grew inside my chest. “We did everything together, especially when our older brothers went places we weren’t allowed.
We used to pretend we were space travelers, cowboys, and living in underwater cities—whatever our minds conjured up.
” Tears stung my eyes at the memories that had been too painful to revisit.
He nodded again, his jaw tight and eyes dark with tension as if he understood what lay ahead.
“We had big dreams that took us all over our little slice of town. One night, when I was eight and Carlito was ten, we were playing kickball with some neighborhood kids. It got dark, and since we were supposed to be home before the streetlights came on, we took a shortcut through some of the older houses, at least that’s what we thought.
Turns out we got spun around and were heading in the opposite direction of where we thought. ”
“Shit, Eliana,” he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
I pressed my lips together, forcing the words out before the fear could lock them down like it used to.
“We weren’t even halfway along the alleyway when we heard yelling.
I got a bad feeling, but we had to go forward so we kept going.
Then there was gunfire. I remember the sound of it, so loud and sharp, the way the sound echoed against the buildings.
Mostly I remember it sounded too close.” The gunshots were the thing I remembered most from the day.
“Carlito pushed me to the ground and told me not to move. He covered me and it felt like forever as gunshots sounded from every direction.”
The memory played over and over behind my eyelids, the same as it did most nights.
His voice filled with fear but trying to sound confident.
His warm hand on my shoulder. The weight of his body protectively covering mine.
The smell of gunpowder, blood, and something else swirling in the air.
“When it finally stopped, I stayed there, curled up too scared to move. I felt Carlito’s weight pressing on me and I tried to shift.
When I got up Carlito rolled over onto his back…
” my throat went dry and I stopped talking.
Instantly I was back in that damn alleyway.
I took a breath and continued, “When I looked at him there was a huge red spot on his t-shirt. Right here.” I placed my palm over my chest. “At first, I didn’t get it, I kept talking to him, urging him to get up before we got in trouble.
I shook him, begging him to stop screwing around.
But he never answered even though his eyes were open. ”
I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose, letting it out slowly through my mouth. “I cried and cried because I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but I knew it wasn’t right. And then came the screaming.”
I felt Sledge’s gaze on me, watching silently.
“People came out eventually to see who was screaming. Then cops showed. And EMTs. A paramedic picked me up and carried me away from Carlito. I was suddenly surrounded by people and then the screaming stopped. I don’t remember much after that.
” I just remembered the silence that came after and lasted longer than anyone expected.
I let out a small, broken laugh. “I stopped screaming and didn’t say another word until shortly after my eleventh birthday.
I didn’t speak, didn’t laugh, did make a peep other than crying into my pillow late at night.
My mom tried everything from doctors and specialists, priests, therapists, and even a hypnotist. Nothing worked.
Then they took me to Michelle Banks, an expert in her field.
She used art therapy to draw me out, but she never pushed or asked me about that night.
She asked about Carlito and my family, what I liked to read and to draw.
I never answered, of course, but I was answering her questions through my drawings, which I only realized later.
One day, I asked if I could try the oil paints.
” I smiled at the memory. “I don’t know who was more shocked, me or Dr. Banks. ”
“And that’s when you started talking again?”
I nodded. “It was the start of my healing. Some days I’d revert back when the flashbacks were too strong or I’d hear a gunshot in the distance or on the TV, but they were short bursts of silence after that.” That healing brought me here. “It’s why I chose this field of study.”
“Shit, Eliana,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry as fuck about that.”
I gave him a weak smile and a shrug, trying to lighten the thick air around us.
“It was a long time ago. You don’t need to apologize but thank you.
I just want you to know how I understand Zoya.
She doesn’t have to tell me what happened, not yet.
I can see it in her drawings, in the way she looks at the world.
She’s not broken. She’s scared. She just needs time. ”
He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there staring at the floor. That tense silence stretched out between us like Route 66, long and never ending.
“It killed my mom that I wouldn’t speak and that made me feel guilty on top of everything else.
But no matter how much I wanted to speak, I couldn’t.
” I watched him but he didn’t give away anything, if he even felt anything.
I’d opened up to him, shared the worst thing that had ever happened in my life and he gave me nothing.
A giant lump formed in my throat, and I pushed off the bed on shaky legs.
“Okay,” I sighed and turned away from him, reaching for my bags.
Sledge stood behind me, yanking the bags from my hand before he walked out of the motel room.
I let out a long breath and stood up. Telling the story of what happened to my brother never got any easier, but now it was out there, and I didn’t have to explain again. I wasn’t sure why Sledge didn’t ask any questions. But maybe he didn’t want to pry.
We drove back in silence. I watched the scenery blur out the window and bit back the tears that threatened to fall.
Maybe Sledge wasn’t the type to offer comfort or kind words.
I liked the fact that he said what was on his mind and didn’t sugarcoat anything, but right now all I wanted was a hug.
But it was fine. There was no need to dwell on why it hurt so much, that part didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that I did what I could to help Zoya while I could.